


it's alright

by peculiarise



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Aromantic, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Issues, Genderfluid Character, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, No Angst, Pansexual Character, Platonic Relationships, Quidditch, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 01:26:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7199807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peculiarise/pseuds/peculiarise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis is okay. mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's alright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quietlycrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietlycrash/gifts).



The first time Louis really felt like something was right was in their fourth year, when they finally let Eleanor paint their nails hot pink in the common room, and Liam thought it was cute.

“It compliments your skin tone. Makes you look even tanner,” Liam said, a giggle on the edge of his voice as he kissed Louis’ soft fingertips. Louis had blushed and pulled their hands away, putting them between their thighs. They didn’t want to look at them not just yet - but knowing the polish was on there just made things seem a little more okay.

Two months later, Harry used the warm lighting of the Gryffindor common room to perfect her hair color. It was a light violet, just a few streaks in her bangs and nothing else, but Louis loved it. The soft color made their stomach flutter, and their voice was quiet when they asked if Harry could put some violet in their hair too.

Liam loved that as well, of course. Louis didn’t think their boy would ever stop playing with their hair, nuzzling his round nose against the ends of Louis’ unstyled fringe.

“So pretty, love. Harry did a good job, didn’t she?” Liam was too kind, the way he held Louis close when they cuddled on his bed in the dorm, Louis drifting in and out of light sleep. Being wild got tiring sometimes, and so did the relentless Quidditch practices Eleanor enforced, but Louis loved those things.

It was Zayn that asked the question, a few years later, first.

+++

“I think I might be aro.”

Louis takes his attention away from his parchment, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at Niall from across the table. They’re in the library, getting some studying done for once, while Zayn browses for new books to read (honestly, who just reads willingly?).

“You mean…” Louis pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, wracking his brain for a few moments. “Aromantic?”

Niall nods. His fingers run over the soft, worn pages of the potions textbook he’s reading from, one that’s probably been in the school since it was first opened.

“Have you told Zayn?”

Louis is cautious asking; Zayn and Niall aren’t really “official”, but they’re certainly not devoted to other people. He doesn’t think he’s seen either boys flirt with another human being since this past summer, when all five of them stayed at Harry’s house for a few weeks.

“He gets it,” Niall says, blue eyes a bit unfocused as he, presumably, recalls the inevitable conversation he had with his sort-of boyfriend. “Like, he obviously doesn’t empathize. But he definitely gets it.”

Louis smiles softly, reaching across the table to grab Niall’s hand, which is still skimming over the page. Movement is a bad habit of Niall’s when his anxiety is acting up; it’s understandable that this is one of those times. Louis remembers how hard it was for Harry to come out to them as trans back in their third year, how she had cried when the four of them just pulled her into a tight group hug that crushed the air out of her lungs. Coming out for him was a bit hard too; pansexuality was a weird thing for a while, and sometimes he still doesn’t know how he feels, but Louis mostly fits. Mostly.

“I’m happy for you, Ni,” Louis murmurs, keeps his voice down in the library. The place is large, and they’re almost near the Restricted Section, but Madam Pince has ears like a bat.

It was Harry that educated and helped the group find themselves, mostly. They’re in their sixth year now, and in that time all of them have found a place for themselves to be; it took the longest for Liam to come around, being so caught up with Sophia that he never really noticed anything else going on in his head, not until one night in at a Slytherin party he and Louis kissed after having too much Firewhiskey.

That was in their fourth year, and the two of them are going strong.

“Have you told any of the others?” Louis wonders.

“Harry, ‘course. She helped me out,” Niall replies, “then Zayn, ‘nd now you. I haven’t seen Liam yet today.”

“Well, he won’t mind.”

“I know.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost dinner I think, why?” Louis drops his quill on his parchment, some of the ink bleeding onto his essay. Whatever, he’ll fix it later.

“Shit. I gotta go find Harry, help her make her potion,” Louis gasps, and immediately starts packing up his belongings. “She’s getting good at it but - she still needs some help and -”

“Lou, mate, take a breather,” Niall says, a hint of a smile on his lips as he watches his friend frantically get his shit together. “It’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Louis sighs. He hitches his satchel over his shoulder. “I’ll see you ‘round. You coming downstairs t’night?”

“I might. Dunno yet, depends on Zayn, yeah?” Louis nods in agreement before giving a wave and walking off, strong legs carrying him out of the library quickly. It’s a bit of an inconvenience to have to walk all the way down into the dungeons, but Louis already lives down there anyway; he really shouldn’t be complaining, since Harry has to go from the Ravenclaw tower.

Harry is already in the potions room when Louis gets there, sitting on a desk with her legs crossed, cauldron in front of her.

“Sorry I’m late,” Louis mumbles, setting his bag down. “Did you get started on it?”

“Mhm,” Harry says, grinning. “I think I did an okay job.” Louis looks into the cauldron and she’s right; the potion does look good. It’s the soft rose gold it should be, with maybe a little more shimmer than usual, but it looks right nonetheless. Harry’s been good at potions ever since they started at Hogwarts, but making her hormone supplements has never been a strong point. The potion, trans aurum, is quite hard, granted, and Louis used up a tonne of the potion closet’s resources while he spent hours to perfect it starting out; but it’s not needed often, only once every two months.

“Looks about right. Have you tested it out?” Louis wonders.

“No, not yet. Should I?”

Louis considers it for a moment, eyes inspecting the potion the best to his ability in such dim light. Harry shifts on the desk next to him, tucking her skirt better between her thighs.

“I think you’ll be fine,” Louis says after a moment. Harry grins even wider, her dimples indenting her soft pale skin adorably.

“Great,” she says, clapping her hands together. Louis smiles softly, putting out the flame underneath the cauldron before going over to the supply closet for a vial that Harry can put the potion in.

Something weird stirs inside Louis as he tries to find a vial that isn't cracked, or scratched up too badly. He sighs, dropping a hand to his side. It's always when he's with Harry, making this potion together, that something suddenly springs to the tip of his tongue.

“Lou? You okay?” Harry asks from across the room. Louis blinks a few times before grabbing a few okay-looking vials, brushing his thumb over the rim of one.

“Yeah. ‘M fine,” Louis mumbles.

He really isn't, but he also doesn't really know why. Louis always has that - that thing on the tip of his tongue but he doesn't even really know what it is. He just knows that it's been bothering him more and more lately, thoughts of feeling wrong and out of place keeping him up at night.

Not that he actually has the time to contemplate. When he's half-awake during those nights, his mind isn't exactly the clearest, and if he's not sleeping then he's eating and if he's not doing that then there's Quidditch or studying or a party to host or a prank to pull. Louis wonders how any of his friends have had the time to even think about themselves for once, how Harry was even able to get down to her gender issues and how Niall was able to figure out he's aromantic.

Maybe that's the issue. That Louis just doesn't have time to himself anymore.

“I gotta go, but you should be able t’fit all of this into these few. If not then you know where the vials are,” Louis says once he gets to Harry. She nods and takes them from Louis’ hand, Louis’ eyes catching the chipping soft blue varnish on her nails. “See ya at dinner?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies, “didn't get the time to eat lunch. This portrait of Nick is kicking my arse.”

“Nobody said you had to paint him, y’know,” Louis scoffs as he collects his things. “Of all people you could've done your portrait on, and it's Grimshaw.”

“Oi! Just because he's not nice to you doesn't mean he's not a nice person,” Harry pouts. Louis grins up at her, where she's still perched on the table.

“I'll see you later, H,” he says.

When he walks to the Slytherin common room his head feels like it's been filled with small bits of cotton and his lungs have rubber bands around them.  
That's been happening for a while. It's getting harder to ignore.

+++

“Louis! Get your shit together!”

It’s not even like the weather is bad today.

It’s great, in fact. Bright and sunny with a slight breeze coming through the autumn air that doesn’t throw Louis off his broom when he’s hovering idly.

“Louis!” Eleanor yells again, and all Louis can do is groan. He really isn’t feeling this match today, which - well, isn’t good because he’s the goddamn Seeker, but Louis’ head hurts and his feet have fallen asleep twice and he has two essays waiting for him back in the dorms.

The game is going alright; they’re tied with Ravenclaw, have been for a while now, because apparently only Eleanor and Nick are feeling it today. Louis really, really fucking hates that his opposite Seeker is Grimshaw, what with his long limbs that can easily reach the Snitch. Limbs and all aside, though, Louis is just better.

Which is probably why another forty-five minutes into the game, Louis is almost given a black eye and takes a Bludger to the stomach as he successfully catches the Snitch and suddenly he’s Eleanor’s best friend again.

Liam is the first one to greet Louis when he lands down on the grass, pulling Louis into a strong hug with even stronger arms and kissing all over the top of Louis’ head.

“You did so great, babe!” Liam exclaims, raising his voice so Louis can hear him over the cheers.

“Yeah, I know.” Louis smirks up at Liam, who grins back, pressing themselves to each other to avoid being jostled by the team and - well, Louis just likes being close to Liam. He's warm and broad and has a soothing voice and has never really given Louis a problem for simply being him.

Not that any of the others have, but. That's not the point.

“So what are we doing tonight?” Liam wonders. His hand is on the small of Louis’ back, guiding them both to the changing rooms. Louis is quick to get his sweaty Quidditch uniform off.

“Dunno, I don't really feel like having a party, yeah?” Louis replies. He struggles to take off one of his boots.

“That's fine,” Liam says.

“Kinda wanna just sneak some Firewhiskey and go sit out by the lake. Before it gets too cold to do it again this year,” Louis continues. His face is somehow streaked with dirt and he blames the fact that he's never actually cleaned off his gloves before. They're caked in mud from the tumbles he's taken during practice and it's. Well, pretty gross, actually.

After cleaning himself up and trying to look a little less disgusting, Louis and Liam make their way back out onto the pitch where Lottie, Niall, Harry, and Zayn are waiting. Lottie’s in Hufflepuff, but Louis’ face just about splits when he sees her covered in Slytherin memorabilia from their mother.

“Hey, Lotts,” Louis greets her, reaching out to mess up her hair. She swats his hand away.

“Just because you won doesn't mean you can touch me,” she says, but it's without malicious intent. A smile plays at her lips and then breaks into a full grin, showing off her small crooked teeth. Sometimes Louis forgets how young his younger sister actually is, what with all of the other siblings he has.

“Whatever,” Louis snorts, “so, Z, ya still got some of that Firewhiskey on hand?”

+++

It gets darker quicker than it has for a while. They have to put on a few layers, since autumn is starting to take its course into the winter months of the year. The five of them huddle together on the bank of the lake, staring at the reflection of the school on the glassy, dark water before them.

“Good game today, Lou,” Harry says. She's the first to speak after a long stretch of silence where they just soaked in each other's warmth and tended to their own thoughts.

“Thanks, H,” Louis grins. He reaches out to grab the bottle of Firewhiskey from Zayn; it's mostly full and enough to get the five of them just tipsy enough to remember the night and still have fun. “Grimshaw is such a fucking twat.”

“Lou, stop it,” Harry whines. She stretches out a long leg to kick away the bottle in his hand but Zayn grabs her by the ankle.

“I paid for that shit, Styles, don't dump it. Or you owe me,” Zayn warns, before immediately curling himself back against Niall’s side. Louis is the same way with Liam, who he passes the bottle to without looking.

Usually Louis’ the one carrying the conversation. He's always prided himself on being basically the ringleader of the group, always having something to say and do. But tonight feels a bit different. As the temperature drops, and he has to press himself closer to Liam, his eyes can't help but focus on the chipping blue nail varnish that brandishes Harry’s fingers. It makes him remember the night that Eleanor painted his nails and he was so proud and didn't even care how it looked, until the next day Oli and Calvin said, “You look like a goddamn queer.” So that night, Louis tearfully removed the varnish with some of Harry’s polish remover and didn't dare to do it again.

The memory makes his stomach flutter in a sickening way. Louis’ always known that it's - it's okay for guys to like girly things, because like Harry says, cosmetics and clothes have no gender. And he thinks that's great and all. Louis finds it comforting.

But sometimes just saying he merely likes to wear lipstick because fuck the gender binary doesn't really - it just doesn't work for him. It makes his mouth taste like he swallowed battery acid and then he tucks it away in his mind because he knows he likes to dress this way but he knows he isn't Harry. Louis knows he feels okay with what he was assigned as, feels okay with wearing typically masculine clothing.  
But at the same time he… really doesn't.

“You okay?”

Liam is the one to snap Louis out of his trance, shaking him gently. Louis’ been idly listening and taking gulps of the whiskey when it's passed to him, but he doesn't know how long he's been out of it and hasn't contributed to the current conversation. He guesses just long enough for Liam to notice and get worried.

“Yeah, ‘m just kinda tired,” Louis assures him. And he's not really lying but at the same time he is, and he wants to say, “Can I talk to you about something?” But Liam suddenly has this huge smile on his face and he's leaning in to kiss Louis and. Well. Maybe Louis can save it for another time.

+++

Two weeks later Louis is putting his clothes on before class and he really feels like vomiting, seeing himself in the mirror wearing slacks and a tie.

Lately it’s been starting to hit him really, really hard; how he feels so out of place sometimes he just lies in bed and stares at the ceiling for hours, hardly a thought on his mind. How sometimes when he sees Harry come down from the Ravenclaw dorm with her skirt on and nails painted and Louis - he wishes he knew what it felt like to wear that skirt and what it feels like to paint his nails and be okay with it.

Sucking in a harsh breath, Louis all but slams the cabinet door shut so that he doesn’t have to see his reflection. He doesn’t need Zayn walking in and wondering what’s wrong (again, because it’s been happening a lot lately) or telling Liam that he saw Louis looking sick for the third time this week. So he walks down to the common room, satchel over his shoulder, Zayn waiting so they can go down for breakfast

“You good?” Zayn wonders as they leave and walk down the corridor, giving Louis a quick one-over. Louis knows he looks hardly put together and exhausted, bags under his eyes and hair in its messy fringe because Louis can’t be pissed to put it in the usual quiff as of late.

“Yeah, ‘m just tired,” Louis mutters.

“Don't lie to me, Lou.”

“I'm not.”

“Yes, you are,” Zayn says, exasperated as he grabs Louis by the elbow. Louis frowns and yanks his arm away.

“What?”

“Something’s been wrong lately and I'm tired of you not telling anyone. You need to talk to us, Louis,” Zayn snaps. He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a moment, and Louis automatically is filled with guilt. He knows he should tell someone how he's been feeling, how it makes his stomach churn when someone refers to him as “he” or “him”, how he feels so odd in his body sometimes.

“You've been acting like Harry was years ago,” Zayn finally says after a moment of silence. “When she was experiencing dysphoria. Lou, are you - what's going on?”

Louis isn't sure what part of Zayn’s statement made him break, but he does. He can feel his nose scrunching up in the way it does when he's about to cry and how his throat is closing up, how hot tears threaten to stream down his cheeks.

“Oh, Louis -” Zayn sighs, and pulls him into a hug, Louis gathering Zayn’s sweater into his fists as he buries his face in his neck.

“Everything f-feels wrong, Z-Z,” Louis chokes out. He's managed so far to keep the tears at bay, an attempt to make this conversation a little coherent.

“Wrong how?” Louis shakes his head.

“Wrong how, Lou?”

“I wish everyone would stop saying “he” and I wish I didn't have to wear these pants all the time and. And I know nail polish isn't a gender thing but it still is to me, sort of. Like it represents something for me and I don't know what it is. And I want to know how Harry does it and what this could be.”

“You want me to take you to Harry?”

“I don't -”

“Let's go see Harry

+++

Coming to terms with being genderfluid is a different kind of experience for Louis, to say the least. They still haven't really figured out the pronouns thing, or the name thing, but Harry told them they don't have to change their name if they don't want to.

Liam doesn't mind, of course. He just compliments Louis on their nail polish and bright blue eyeshadow, tells them how pretty they look because Liam knows Louis likes to be called pretty, especially now when sometimes they don't feel like they are.

Louis is able to take the same kind of hormone potion as Harry in a smaller dosage on the days they want softer features, a higher voice and maybe less leg hair (because leg hair is okay but sometimes they wish it weren't so god damn thick).

And most of the time, they feel okay. Most of the time they love the polish on their nails or the curve of their waist or their strong jawline. Other times Louis just wants to curl up in bed and not look at themselves for a week - especially after hearing comments from Oli and Calvin, getting looks from professors they've never actually been a student of, when someone uses the wrong pronouns.

“It's gonna get easier,” Harry assures them. “You're not gonna wake up one day and just suddenly feel okay with yourself. But it's gonna get easier.”

And so Louis holds onto that, like they hold onto Liam’s hand and their friends’ love.


End file.
